


In Six-Eight

by onmyheart



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Borrowed Plot Elements, Character Development, Family Dynamic, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-26
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-10 18:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onmyheart/pseuds/onmyheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tony asks Steve out on a "date" and he gladly accepts in the hopes of alleviating unresolved tension. Things reach new heights and love is found.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Six-Eight

**Author's Note:**

> The title originates from saintdoriangrey's song "In Six-Eight." No references to it yet but the title made sense to me nonetheless.

"JARVIS, how is it Steve's landed yet another date? Actually, don't answer that."

Tony was leaning over the bar counter staring at Steve who had just come home from a date with a waitress that worked not far from Stark Tower.

"What do you suppose they're talking about." Clint had joined Tony at the counter overseeing Steve in deep conversation with Natasha. 

"Your guess is as good as mine Barton and for the _last time_ make some damn noise when you move!"

"I'm assuming his date went well," Clint said disregarding Tony.

"Hm. I concur," Bruce said joining the other two. "I'm going to pretend we never had the need to know though."

"Stark, did you ever apologize for being an ass," Clint said turning to his left to see how Tony would react. It wasn't within Tony's capabilities to apologize in a forward manner.

"Hm, don't think so. Think you can give me some pointers ? You know, with you all being the biggest ass there is and your flipping sides? I'm sure you keep a lot more in that quiver of yours. A few apologies perhaps?" 

"Bruce, is my ass really that big?" Clint turned to give his behind an observation. 

"Um."

"Shut up, _shut up_! He's coming over." 

Clint and Bruce turned to exchange smirks and left the counter also leaving Tony to his own devices. He cast a glare watching them leave. 

"Cap, hey! How'd your date go?"

Steve was reaching for the fridge door. He leaned in search of something. "Swell," he said speaking into it.

Tony was trying very hard not to glance down at the captain's jutting behind. 

"Great great great. That's great." 

Steve was now standing back up with a bottle of Naked which Tony made sure to always keep great amounts of. Not for his own benefit but for Steve who was still amazed by the taste and by the things used to make it. Mangos were still a very foreign idea to him. He had opened it and taken a few gulps finishing with two thirds of the bottle. 

"So listen, I never got the chance to apol-"

"Don't worry about. I think we both said some-"

It was odd to him that Steve immediately knew what he was talking about. Out of the heated discussion that took place on the helicarrier, it was apparent the pair were the most wounded. 

"Let me buy you dinner," Tony blurted out.

"Uh, sure. Why not," he grinned with the prospect of making things right as they should be. His thought process being that if they were going to work with each other, they'd have to learn not to step on each others toes. Much like dancing. 

"Great. How's tomorrow for you?" 

"Sounds good to me."

"It's a date."

Steve chuckled and made his way to his room. Tony turned to pour himself a third cup of coffee but instead of finding the coffee machine in front of him, he found Natasha with arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

"Jes--both you and Barton need to stop doing that. I mean really." He knocks on the encasing of the arc reactor through his Black Sabbath t-shirt. "I'm a man with a heart condition." 

"Oh so you have a heart now," Natasha said amused. 

"Really? Do I need to repeat the whole philanthropist bit to you?"

"Just be careful Stark. Team dynamics." With that, she turned to walk to the spot in front of the black leather couch where the majority of her weaponry was spread out on the carpet.

"I swear. You take those things out just to look at them."

"Like you don't ogle the Iron Man suit every now and then. Besides, routine maintenance is important and Barton just lost a bet." 

"Have not! Dinner means nothing!"

"He called it a _date_ Barton. Bruce, care to have a say?"

Bruce cleared his throat not looking up from the book he was reading. 

"I rest my case. Get started," she said handing her boots to Clint. 

"This wasn't part of the bet!" 

She shoved the polish and a rag into his hands, joining the high heeled boots.

"I despise you all," Tony said proceeding to bang his forehead on the counter. Lifting his head thoughtfully,"Except you Bruce. You I like. The rest of you can move out."

"You say the sweetest things Stark," Natasha said grinning into her reflection in the knife she was holding.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Steve made a habit of bringing his art supplies if he knew he'd be staying at any one place for an extended amount of time. It was the satchel that he carried them in that required getting used to. He never quite got over the silliness of carrying one but Tony made him admit that it was rather modish. The one he had at his foot now was a navy blue with two brown leather straps with buckles keeping it closed. 

Another habit he couldn't bring himself to break was the need to carry everything he could possibly need. He once had an itch to draw in inks while overseeing Natasha. She refused to be hospitalized and fought endlessly to keep from being kept from her work. She seldom suffered from severe injuries but when she did, it was to a considerable degree. He decided overseeing her would be best even if he didn't have his supplies to keep him occupied. 

He now sat in the patio outside the restaurant where Tony told him to be at. He had told him six but Steve lost track of how long he had been late by. With his left leg crossed over his right, he idly doodled whatever came to mind onto the moleskin on his lap. The moleskin was one of the many things he came to find one day after taking residence at Stark Tower. It was newly dubbed Avengers Tower and it was finally a place he could call home. Even if his room generously doubled as a studio preset with anything he may ever need to produce whatever his heart desired. He knew that perhaps it'd be the only way Tony would be able to apologize without it being vocal. 

"Steve."

He looked up from his sketching to look into a set of brandy colored eyes not unlike those of a man he'd known before. 

Grinning,"Tony."

"What ya got there," he asked taking the seat across Steve's. 

"Oh nothing. Why are you late?"

"Industries stuff I don't want to bore you with."

"Actually, I've been meaning to ask. Well, that and what is it you do all that time in your lab."

"What is this? Am I on Punk'd?" He turned left and right. "Is that even a thing anymore?" 

"Uh."

And that earns Steve a laugh. He smiled along, guessing that it was the situation that was funny and not his pop cultural ineptness. 

"Forgive me. I forget you did time as a capsicle. So what shall we eat? Pizza's great here. How about it? Or we could do burgers. Or..." He looked down the menu searching for something wholesome and American. Something that wouldn't throw Steve off. "It so happens they have mango smoothies." He looked up to see the kind of expression it had earned him and the smile he took in was more rewarding than anything in recent memory. Even if Steve was looking at the menu and not at him.

"I think I'd like that."

"Like what? The burgers or pizza or the sm-"

"All of it."

"You said you lived through the Depression?"

Steve laughed dropping the forgotten sketchbook to the cement.

"I got it," Tony said reaching for it. He flipped it closed and felt the texture of the backside, still warm from being on Steve's lap. 

"Mind if I have a look?"

"Not at all," a rather fond Steve responded. His sights were back on the menu.

Tony gingerly lifted the cover to the first page and found studies of lithe female bodies and buildings with archaic architecture and the most heavily detailed rendering of the Tower he'd ever seen. They were all oddly placed so he assumed them to be all separate instead of one singular idea. But he never did quite pay attention to Pepper's lectures on the subject of placement and art in general. He turned the page to find it blank.

"What?" 

Tony looked up to meet blue eyes. Steve's face, one of concern. Tony hadn't realized that he had flipped back to the illustrations that had greeted him and stared for so long that he hadn't spoken. 

"Nothing I jus-I-they're wonderful."

"The mighty Tony Stark stammering after seeing one of my drawings. Now I really _have_ seen it all."

"Oh please. Don't flatter yourself Steven. I was debating whether or not to point out the obvious flaws in the Tower." 

"Well, you built it."

"Sassy are we? _Touchy?_ Isn't their a boy scout code against that?"

"You wouldn't know."

"Ladies and gentleman, Captain America has a sense of wit," Tony said speaking to an invisible audience. 

"Shut-up and for goodness sake , try to be polite to the waiter."

"Me, anything other than polite?" A devious smirk. "Never."

Steve sighed and took back his sketchbook and placed it back into the navy satchel.

Tony proceeded to order nearly everything on the menu and enough mango smoothies for an army of super soldiers with hasty metabolisms. Steve didn't take the joke lightly and managed to distribute the smoothies to the many customers the restaurant had. They more than gladly accepted the smoothie and the sight of a tall, lean blond handing it to them. Tony pouted at the thought of doing the same and receiving the opposite response. His reputation would precede him.


	2. Don't Hang Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's restlessness brings him to call Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like I'll be writing fluff for a few more chapters. I'm gonna hit you guys in the feels pretty soon so yeah, there's my disclaimer. Haha

They arrived at the car before the down pour hit full force. Tony had taken his suit jacket and draped it over Steve's satchel hoping it'd keep the water out. They had enjoyed their supper and the all too familiar banter that took place. The ride home was a quiet one. Relaxing contemporary music played as Steve looked out the window contemplating his surroundings. Tony, to his surprise, was driving at a sane velocity. The surprise also came when the music wasn't one threatening to deafen him. 

"I have to leave in the morning."

"Where to," Steve asked still looking outside.

"Mm, something about investors in Japan. Pepper didn't fill me in completely but knowing her all I need for prep is down in the lab already." Tony yawned and continued,"Any special requests?"

"Um... Take pictures? I'm not quite sure what to ask for."

"A surprise then. I like surprises." If Steve had seen him winking, the conversation would be taking a different route. But his eyes never left the view outside the window. 

_Let's see how long it'll take him_ , Tony thought. He was far from subtle and he'd try his damnedest to worm his way into Steve's heart even if it beat for different reasons and it was bigger than anything he'd be able to calculate on any scale or solve through any algorithm. 

It started at a young age Tony confessed to himself that night. They had entered the Tower and parted ways upon stepping on the hardwood of the main floor. Naturally Steve thanked him endlessly and told him not to worry about it in response. Maybe that was it. 

Tony sat on his bed and pondered the thought. From the very first comic Tony had read he'd fallen in love with the idea. The idea of a man selflessly putting himself on the line for all that was good and right. Captain America stood for what Tony couldn't or rather he stood for everything he needed at the time. In his youth, Tony was reserved and timid and fragile. He saw bits of himself in the captain before his change but he was sure the values never left him. That night was proof of that. In fact, he'd been the the exact man the he thought him to be through all that he read and saw of the era of the gentleman. But apart from the idea, he'd learn to love the man. 

There was a knock at the door that pulled him from his recollections. He frowned. They'd gotten home fairly late and no one was in the lounge area of the main floor. He walked over to the door to find his date holding a black portfolio about the same size of his sketchbook. 

"It's kind of late Steven," Tony stated smiling.

"I know, I know I just wanted -I wanted-well, here."

He handed him the portfolio. Tony noticed the damp warmth where Steve's hands must have been gripping it. He flipped it open to find the same drawing from earlier in a translucent sleeve. It was the only one in the pages of the sleeves of the portfolio.

"So you don't, you know, get homesick."

Tony looked up from the drawing and met his favorite pair of blue eyes. He extended his arms and wrapped them around Steve's waist, locking him in an embrace. 

Pulling back,"Thank you."

And with the smile he gave him, he thought he'd made Steve's night, if the dampness of the sides of the portfolio were any indication of Steve's unsureness of whether or not to give him the page out of his sketchbook. They said good night for the second time that evening and as Tony shut the door behind him and took a few steps toward his bed, he realized he had _fully_ accepted something that was handed to him directly. 

_I am fucked._

 

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was three in the morning and Steve writhed restlessly. He had seen Tony off only just a week before. It was an empty feeling every time he came home from an outing. Even if the team was there with him. Three seventeen and he was thinking about the day he had left behind. He had gone to Central Park to get some sketching done and to bask in the relative peace Loki and Thor had left upon their absence. Three twenty-four and he was thinking about the abundant amount of art supplies Tony had given him. The canvases, the easels, the ink pens, and paints and color pencils. Three forty and he thought about his also abundant spare time which he had no clue how to occupy other than to illustrate and paint. It was three fifty when he decided to finally call. He'd use the iPhone he was given. It had rung a few times.

"Howdy Steve!"

"Tony, how are you? Uh, how'd you know it was me?" 

"Caller ID. And by the sound of the question I assume we'll have to resume your education of the modern world."

Steve laughed. "You assume correctly."

"So what's up? Isn't it like two in the morning over there?"

"Close to four."

"Ah! What'd you need? You set the toaster on fire again?"

"No actually. It was the coffee maker this time."

"You did what?!"

All Tony could hear from the other end of the line were poorly stifled chuckles.

"Very funny Rogers."

"I just wanted to check in. To see how you were doing." Steve was sitting up now with his back against the headboard.

It was silent for a moment until Tony decided to speak again. Steve back tracked to see what he had said wrong out of habit.

"Well I just got out of a set of meetings. Going to the hotel right now. Or as far away from these people as the cab can take me." 

"Home then?"

"I hardly think the cab would drive me all the way to you but I am a very rich man so I'll have to look into that."

Somehow, in Tony's mind, home and Steve Rogers had become synonymous. Or maybe Steve had done that for him. 

"Speaking of home, shouldn't you be sleeping? Or were you up making cookies?"

"Very funny. No, I was just feeling restless and wanted to know how you doing and--"

"It's alright if you were baking Rogers. It'll be our little secret, just you and me. But do me a favor and don't set anything on fire. Again. I'll leave you to it the--"

"Tony, do you mind staying on with me." 

Really, how many times was Steve going to render Tony speechless. 

"Well, uh, what do you want to talk about?" 

Steve sank back under the sheets. "What were the meetings about? How was your day," he sighed. Steve exhaling should not have been as attractive as Tony found it.

Tony caved and described to the last detail everything he could remember from the meetings or rather what he cared to pay attention to. The other end of the line had grown silent with the exception of gentle breathing. Tony assumed him to be asleep but kept the line open all the same. He'd gotten to his hotel room and gotten changed into pajama bottoms and a tank with the phone laid next to his pillowed head. Steve would probably apologize later thinking the call would cost a fortune.


	3. Honest Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's taken both of them time to get where they're going. Both took separate paths to get there but they are where they are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a bromance developing!

"Anthony Stark," the voice at the front of the classroom asked. A frail hand went up.

"Present," came the voice of the owner of the raised hand. The class snickered and murmured in the response.The teacher called out the rest of the names on the class roster one by one. No whispers or snickering followed after theirs like Tony's.

He recalled the argument between his parents the night before. It wasn't so much an argument as it was a heated discussion. The topic being whether or not to send him to a public or private school. Naturally, the first option was for his education to be top notch and from the best educators money could employ. Private school was definitely the route for Howard Stark's son. His wife Maria thought that perhaps public schooling would offer him a better social environment. Anthony had problems applying himself in that aspect. They knew he had a brilliant mind and exceedingly articulate manner but problems rose when he couldn't fully communicate with other than monosyllabic sentences on the rare occasions he would encounter a child his age. His mind, or perhaps himself, had become his worst enemy and at the same time his best friend. They reached the conclusion of sending him to a public school first to see if his lackluster social skills would improve. 

Tony sat with his arms crossed on top of his desk, face shielded behind them. His eyes peeked just above them to see the front of the classroom. His instinct told him to sit near the front to be able to retain all the information possible. His legs dangled at the edge of the seat as he was much too young and much too small to be filling what should be a sixth grader's seat. He pulled out his notebook, opened it, and began to draw a small star enclosed by a circle. He drew three more circles around it and reached for the color pencils in his backpack to begin filling in the symbol. He spent the rest of his first day of public school doodling as the teacher lectured on arithmetic he already knew. He was five then. 

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Tony woke abruptly at the feel of the car stopping. The trip to Tokyo had taken its toll on his non-existent sleep patterns and he was desperately craving his third cup of coffee. He fell asleep complaining of how he never consumed enough. 

The door opened and Happy greeted him to Avengers Tower. He stepped out, breathing in the cool night air. He exhaled and made his way into the tower, walking to the elevator that would take him to the main floor. He closed his eyes as the elevator doors slid shut imagining how good it'd feel to fall asleep on the cot he kept in the lab. Somehow the cot had become more comfortable than his bed with the highest thread count money could buy and plush pillows. An argument could be made that it was the cot's placement and not necessarily its quality that made it more favorable. With a familiar ding, the doors opened and he stepped into his living quarters. He was immediately hit with the sound of music. Music that was foreign to his near daily heavy metal. If his brain was correct, it was the sound of piano and the gentle beat of accompanying drums filling his ears. 

"What is this racket," he asked to anyone that would answer. Jarvis, realizing Tony's feigned displeasure, turned it off.

"So this is what you consider racket? Mr. Stark, you need to get that checked out."

A chuckle,"Where are ya Stevie." A few steps in and he met the fridge behind the counter. He retrieved one of the fruit smoothies and went to find Steve sitting on the floor in front of the couch with his shoulders surprisingly hunched. 

"You're the first in this time to call me that," he said looking up to Tony who was taking a seat next to him.

 _I'd like to take all your firsts. If given the chance_ , he thought. "That's nice," was what he really said. The need to ask who had previously called him so was achingly strong. Curiosity killed the cat. "So tell me, who had that honor," Tony questioned as he opened the bottle and took a sip.

"My mother."

"Mm, tell me about her?"

"You honestly want to know?"

"Sure."

"I'd rather we didn't," he said getting up to stand on his feet. 

"Ugh, Steven let's not do this. I asked and now I demand you tell me. Come on," Tony said patting the warmth of the floor Steve had left. "And it's strangely quiet around here. Where is everyone? The fridge is fully stocked and the place is spotless, what gives?"

Steve took the seat he had left. "Something about going to target for pop-tarts, tea, and movies. I thought they meant target _practice_ but what would these pop tarts and things be doing there?"

"Steve, it's Target. _Target_. As in the chain of stores. Those lessons on the modern world, look forward to them."

"I suppose," Steve agreed smiling.

"So, about your mother."

"Um."

"I will not beg. _Now_ Steven."

"Well..."

"Is she the reason you're currently moping around on my floor of the Tower all by yourself." He knew there wasn't a point in saying that it was his floor as it also served as the group's home theater. And apparently where Natasha's routine maintenance of her weapons took place. And where Bruce enjoyed his books. Clint was a given. 

"You talk too much," Steve said.

"And you don't talk enough."

Silence filled the room for what felt like an eternity. Tony was patient for very few people. Two to be exact. But as with all things, once he starts something, he fully intends on finishing it. 

"She was a beautiful woman," Steve finally spoke. "She was remarkable. Had a heart I've never come to see again. You could always see it. Her heart I mean. She'd pour it into whatever she did. When she cooked, when she spoke to me, when she'd worry over the smallest thing." He paused. "Never forget. That was what she said to me before she died. 'Always be proud of who you are and where you came from. Never forget the people who helped you get to where you're going.'" He sniffed, looked to Tony and feigned a smile. All Tony could do was look to his eyes and search for what to say. 

"She was lying down when she left. I had refused to eat the stew she had made. I disliked the carrots," he laughed. "I was at her bedside drawing and that's what she told me. To never forget and eat my carrots because they were good for the memory. I promised I'd take her out into the country when she'd get better. She never did. She died not seeing the world that was as beautiful as she."

Tony had gotten glassy eyed himself but he'd never fully admit that. 

"She didn't die Stevie," he murmured leaning to rest the side head of his on his shoulder. "She lives inside you." Upon finishing his sentence he felt a faint trickle down his forehead.

They stayed that way for a while. In relative silence save for the few sniffs Steve gave. Tony could hear the lumps he was trying to swallow. 

"Tell me how you came to be here."

"Well I suppose I had to thaw first. I woke up in a room that--"

" _No_! How come you're just sitting around remembering all these things."

"Well, responsibility says that they, you, belong to me. That made me remember what she said and, well, here we are."

"So where you going?"

"Hm?"

"'Never forget the people that help you get to where you're going.' Where are you going?"

"To grab my phone and order a pizza. You actually listening has really shaken me."

Tony finally lifted his head. "Oh shut-up. I'm more than," a rather obnoxious yawn,"capable. Forgot I was tired. Gonna go shower," he said getting up. "Were you serious about that pizza? I'm guessing we'll need like three with that metabolism of yours. And the metabolisms of the other three. You know what, I'm gonna watch you phone it in. It'll be interesting."

As Steve reached for the phone on the center table in front of him the elevator doors dinged and slid open.

"Honey, I'm home!"


	4. Unusual You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Movie night isn't anything new but this one turned out different somehow.

Clint looked to Steve then Tony and back again. "You monster! You've made Cap cry," he said dropping the bags and making a beeline for Tony's neck.

"Oh for the love of--we were having a heart to..." Tony frowned and furrowed his eyebrows. "Heart to reactor?"

Clint laughed and loosened his grip on Tony's dress shirt attempting to flatten the fabric he had rumpled. "I swear, the only reason we keep you around is for your funnies."

"Um, remind me again whose house you're in?"

" _Our_ house," chimed the voice of Natasha. 

"Mhm," he smacked his lips as if to retort but Steve decided then to interject with saying his name in a stern yet fond manner. Tony looked to him and smiled. "Oh we're just playing. This is how we get along, right Clint? Where's Bruce by the way? You didn't lose him at Target did you?"

"I'm right here," a voice groaned. 

Tony leaned to his right,"Ah. I see you're playing the part of muscle again." An exasperated huff was his response. 

"Oh give me the bags ya big baby."

"I'll be a big _green_ baby you if you push your luck."

"Coming dear," Tony said quickly taking a brisk walk to Bruce and shoving Clint to the side with his hip. "What'd you guys get anyway?"

"A few things the StarkFridge and StarkCabinets were missing," Natasha said placing her share of the bags on the counter. Tony joined her with Bruce's. "Which reminds me, when are the new StarkPods out," she asked sarcastically.

"Didn't I hear something about Romanoff brand knives?"

"Touché. But really, how necessary is it to stamp your name on everything here," she laughed while emptying the bags.

"It's just fair," he shrugged. "I make and design the stuff, why shouldn't people recognize so?"

"I believe the phrase is 'you betta recognize,'" Bruce said reaching for the plantains Natasha took out. 

They all worked to put everything away and disposed of the plastic bags. Bruce finished the plantains in what must of been one chew and one gulp. Once the last bought item was put away they turned to each other.

"So what's for dinner," Steve asked from the couch.

"Didn't you say something about pizza dear," Tony responded. 

"I did didn't I?"

Tony turned back to look at his fellow teammates. Nodding in unison, Natasha said, "I've got the hot sauce." 

"I'll get blankets and pillows." 

"No forts this time Barton!" 

"I pick the movie." 

"Nothing that'll put me to sleep too soon please Bruce." 

"I'll phone it in then," came Steve's voice far too amused by everyone's eagerness and readiness. Exactly when this had become a routine was long forgotten but was always welcome. As far as routines went this one was never tedious.

"Avengers Assemble," Clint proclaimed with a fist in the air. After a few laughs and snorts they all went to their individual jobs. Eventually they joined Steve at the couch. Clint settled on the floor while Natasha curled up into the only armchair. Tony, unsurprisingly, found himself devastatingly close to Steve. Bruce occupied Tony's other side with his legs drawn up and folded with knees bumping Tony's thigh trying to find the right spot. Tony dimmed the lights and Bruce asked Jarvis to begin playback of his movie selection. 

"What kind d'ya order," Tony whispered to his left.

"Half veggie, half pepperoni. Stadium."

"Just the one?"

"Three."  
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••  
The movie was nearing the end Steve knew. He looked around to see who else was awake as Tony had begun snoring with his head on Steve's lap. He looked to Clint below him with a half eaten piece of pizza still on his plate. The other half hanging from his open mouth with dried hot sauce at the corners. To his right, beyond Tony, he looked to Bruce tucked into the deepest recesses of his corner of the couch. And Natasha hadn't budged save for the few times she had gotten up for a slice. Her head rest on her drawn up knees. 

He looked back down to his lap. Tony had dozed off earlier on in the film trying to keep awake until he found Steve's shoulder and eventually his upper thigh. Steve hadn't minded. He would later tease Tony about it and of course he'd pout and blush and refuse he ever did so. 

Steve focused on the strands of hair and the lines of Tony's face, committing them to memory. He was handsome, unworldly so. His face gleamed with the flickering light of the screen. Steve looked further down the curled body, and placed his hand on the Tony's midsection. So many of his qualities were otherworldly. How he'd fallen for the not-quite-gent was a surprise to him.

Steve thought about it exactly twice. Once with Bucky and once with Peggy. Love was something he had yet to fully comprehend but he knew he felt it. But he also knew there were things that kept them apart. There were always things impeding him from ever truly falling.

Deep within him, buried beneath Bucky's smiles, half hugs, and the guilt, he knew it wouldn't be right. Bucky had seen him as the brother he never had and Steve known better than to misinterpret. But he had always felt like there was much more to saving Steve from another fight and spending time together when they scrapped enough money to. And all that was left unresolved when he passed. Even if Bucky had lived long enough, Steve had never actually planned to act on his feelings. 

He had felt the same way with Peggy and by then he had long repressed anything for Bucky. It was ridiculous to him his carelessness for falling in love. It was in the way she wore the scarlet dress and matching lips that night at the pub. Steve was always drawn to the more unique qualities in a person. For Peggy it was her composure and demanding presence. He smiled upon recalling what a sputtering mess he was during the ride to the Brooklyn antique shop before his change. 

And so he looked to Tony now. He would give him the world if he could but he knew it would probably go the other way around. It was as scary as it was overwhelming and it pained him to think he'd never be brave enough to act. Officially. The small touches and slight brushes would kill him slowly if he remained silent. Somehow he knew Tony took as much pleasure in them as he did but he was flamboyant and deathly eccentric so perhaps it was just his general way of being.

Playing footsie below the table was ridiculously childish but giggles were another thing Tony wasn't open to admitting. Steve had that effect on him. It had started with Steve casually stretching his legs at the dinner table after a particularly tiring training session. His barefoot brushed against the soft cotton of Tony's dress sock and after a _hey, watch it_ they were soon battling for more foot room while the others prepared supper. It was at a stalemate. 

There was another time. Another movie night where Tony's legs were spread much too wide to be casual. So much so Steve didn't second guess it and scooted closer to him. And on another occasion, Tony had draped his left arm on the length of the couch behind Steve shoulders. Steve knew he must have been aching as he also knew the height difference was there. So he took Tony's arm and returned it to his side and lifted his own to place it on the oppose length behind Tony's shoulders. If they both leaned in a bit too much , they'd never say. Neither would any of the rest. Although Steve suspected Clint could have spared the few glances and lopsided grins. 

And so it was what Steve lived for now. Small touches with Tony, movie nights with his fellow Avengers, and sketching because time was no longer a factor. They were at peace and they were a whole. A family for lack of better term. Clint called him _pop_ one time and called Tony _ma_ another. It fit well even if Tony chased Clint around for an hour with his irritation. He may as well have been chasing a bird.

Steve began to gently rub Tony's stomach. He shifted a bit but drew closer into the touch. He arched his back and Steve had to stifle his chuckle so as to not wake the others. He leaned in close and placed a kiss onto Tony's forehead, brushing away the loose strands of hair with his finger. He would have to get his hair cut soon but Steve liked it a little long on him so a trim would suffice. 

"I love you," he whispered to the shell of Tony's ear.

Tony sighed and shifted so that he was now face to face with Steve's lowered head. "I love you too," he whispered back, placing a kiss on the corner of Steve's mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. Writing fluff takes it's toll cause it gives me SO many feelings. Haha


	5. When Your Eyes Say It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up to the person you love is the potentially the best thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I'm really going for the whole dynamic here. Not completely unintentional. Much like making Clint a fanboy. Woa guys, the rating changed!

"You should've been sleeping," Steve said attempting to keep the shock from his voice. The room was now a dull yellow hue. The film had faded to black and everyone but Steve and Tony was sound asleep. Time seemed to have stopped when Steve looked, really looked into Tony's brandy eyes. Somehow it had seemed right this time around. 

"And miss you sweet talking? Not for the world."

"You knew I was going to?"

"It was only time before you well, uh, fell to my wooing. Define futurist my dear Captain." 

"Mm, I rather you tell me. And wooing? Is that what that was," Steve asked amused, leaning down again to fully place his lips on Tony's. It was then he fully got to taste. For one reason or another, Steve tasted banana and faint traces of coffee and the some of the lingering flavors of pizza once Tony parted his lips. It was foreign yet so welcoming.

Steve pulled back, searching Tony's eyes again. He secretly chastised himself for not acting sooner. The look in Tony's eyes made his heart beat faster like so few others had done before him, so perhaps it was worth the wait. "I'm only going to ask this once: why do your lips taste like banana?"

"Walgreens had a sale on Iron Man lip balm. They made you watermelon flavor but damn do you taste a whole lot better," Tony responded. "We came in the same package." They laughed until they realized they had done so too loudly as Bruce shifted in his cocoon of blankets. "Why'd you wait so long," Tony asked. It sounded a bit more desperate than it should have. This time it was him searching Steve's glittering blue eyes. He probably would have to follow up with _how the hell can your eyes do that in this crap lighting_. Perhaps it was the laugh they had just shared but something within Tony said opposite. It was the only thing about Steve he actually feared: his honest eyes. In fact it was the only reason that made Steve a horrible liar. His body language had of course attained certain composure in the toughest of times so as to not give himself away. But any attempt to keep anything from anyone would fail because his eyes would speak volumes without even fully intending to.

"Well..." He began. "Well..." He tried again, huffing a sigh. "I wasn't sure if it'd be requited or not." 

"Mhm, and will I have to makeout with you some more to prove that it is?" 

"Can you not call it that?"

"Oh I love you. And I suppose you call se--"

"Making love," Steve finished for him. "Or fondue alternatively," he chuckled.

"Oh yeah, I like you very much. Not many blondes I know with that particular brand of vocab but I see the scales tipping in your favor already."

"Can we not get into your history of past lovers? Particularly the blond ones?"

"I've been a changed man for a long time Cap. I'm a one man _man_ now."

"And Pepper--"

"Ah, Ms. Potts. Wonderful woman. Can only take so many near death experiences though. And the history of lovers past ends... _now_."

"Well alright then," Steve said hoisting Tony into his lap and letting his arms fall  
to his waist. His fingers curled around the belt loops of Tony's slacks pulling him closer and ultimately elevating the heat between them. Tony's arms were on either side of Steve's neck, finding great comfort in entwining his fingers with locks of blond hair. 

"I do not like to be manhandled."

"Your eyes and body language say different Mr. Stark."

"You're a horrible influence. Say you love me again?"

"I," Steve began to say while peppering kissing on Tony's face. The first landed on his chin. "Love." Another on his lips. "You." And another was planted on his nose. "In." A kiss on Tony's cheek and a shiver. "Every." His other cheek and Tony whimpers. "Way," Steve says landing his final kiss on Tony's forehead.

"Wow. You're really going for the old timey stuff, huh?"

"Respect your elders young man," Steve said slapping Tony's hip.

"While we're on the subject--"

"You talk too much." 

"And you, not enough. But technically, you're the older of us and yet less experienced. And--" 

"So what do we do about them," Steve gestured to the the three sound asleep Avengers. He knew he'd never see the end of it with the way the conversation was going. Tony looked and would've never thought these people were what completed the team. Let alone the thought of them being super heroes. They seemed so peaceful and at ease. 

"Honey, I think we should leave them."

"Gosh Tony, you're such a good mother."

"Call me their mother one more time and we _will_ go a few rounds."

"Put on the suit," Steve said while attempting to stifle a yawn and failing miserably.

"Yeah, okay big guy. After some sleep," Tony said patting his shoulder. "And your breath shouldn't be all that welcoming after all that pizza you ate."

His response was another yawn. As much as Tony hated the separation, he lifted off of the comfort of Steve's lap and stood before him extending his hand. "Come on let's go to bed." Their bare feet stuck slightly as they transitioned from the plush living room carpet to the hardwood floors leading to Tony's bedroom. The lights dimmed to complete darkness behind them and the moonlight peaking through the windows lit their way. Steve's hand tensed slightly but Tony led him along anyway. They had reached the door and entered, closing it behind them. It was clear the man had taste. Beautifully furnished and sleek, Tony's bedroom was carefully crafted to his likings. Tony let go of Steve's hand and walked over to his bed untucking the sheets and comforter.

"You comin'," he asked looking back to Steve.

"Um I really don't think this would be--"

"Steven, chivalry is dead and I'd really like to make up for lost time," Tony said patting the bed.

"Um."

"Ugh." Tony walked back over to Steve to only drag him back to the side of the large bed. "It's just sleep Steve."

"I can do that in my bed."

Tony scoffed and lifted the sheets so as to crawl under them. "Rogers, get in my bed now!"

"Well when you put it like that..." Steve lifted the sheets just like Tony had done and acquainted himself with the softness and comfort the bed offered. 

"Are you seriously going to sleep that close to the edge?"

"Is it alright if I move closer then?"

"Oh you are a gem."

Steve lifted his lower body and moved closer to Tony's side of the bed. "Can I... I mean I'd like to, um--"

Tony closed the gap between them and shifted to his side so as to place one of Steve's bulky arms under his own, lacing there fingers. "I love you too," he said into the his pillow. Steve placed a kiss at the back of his neck and nuzzled at the soft, warm skin. He had noticed not much of it was as smooth but instead marred with what he knew to be slight burns and singes by averted crises from all the time put in in the lab.

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you be here in the morning? I mean, can you not go and do whatever it is you do at the crack of dawn."

"I go out for a run. Here, I thought you'd _prefer_ me sweaty."

"I do but--"

"I'll be here in the morning Tony."

He took Steve's response as incentive to arch his back and press his behind into Steve's groin. He didn't want to scare Steve but he did want to lay the foundation for bridges they had yet to cross. Ultimately, Tony tried to mold perfectly into the side of Steve's body to close whatever space was between them once more. Through the fabric of their shirts, Tony could feel the mounds that he knew to be Steve's impressive abdominal muscles. Steve was always secretive about his physique which utterly baffled him. If Steve's skin tight blue under armor was any indication, the man had nothing to be ashamed of. 

Tony fell asleep in the warmth of Steve's embrace while counting the few birthmarks that led up to Steve's fingers through the light of the arc reactor. Their fingers were still laced when he noticed Steve's other paw-like hand had snaked around his chest to rest just below the reactor. His body never felt warmer making his eyes heavier with sleep. It also helped that every time Steve exhaled it'd brush gently at the back of his neck. Tony had previously thought jet lag was going to be a problem for the next week but that would all change if Steve decided on his permanent residence in his bed.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Tony struggled to open his eyes. They were still sleep heavy but the light made them itch. He forced them open, blinked, and focused on the man lying next to him. How he could have fallen in love with a perfect, emphasizing the perfect, stranger was dumbfounding and terrifying. Of course he knew him through the few movies he had made. Of course he knew him through his face being plastered on nearly everything Tony owned when he was five. And of course he knew him through the few pieces of literature that offered depth to the man behind the cowl written by people that claimed to have known him in such ways. 

Nothing could have prepared him for actually meeting him. That's also what it felt like waking up next to him. Unprepared, if it was an emotion. So close he could reach out and actually touch, he wondered what a man like that would dream of. Unicorns, apple pie, and food in general were all strong possibilities. Or probably the white picket fence and family time decided to deprive him of. Tony was essentially doing the same but then again a little selfishness was healthy, and whose to say they wouldn't adopt. Tony's eyes bulged at the thought. Always thinking in leaps instead of steps when thinking about Steve. He really _would_ like to take all his firsts.

He continued to ponder until he couldn't take the itch anymore and he asked Jarvis to close the shades. He knew he had programmed him in such a way so as to not rudely awaken him with blinding sun but Jarvis occasionally had ulterior motives. Apparently, making Tony fall harder for Steve was one of them. 

He woke up again and the bedside alarm clock read 11:50. He had made note to get one after he decided talking to Jarvis was sometimes much too early. Especially when he was fuel deprived. He rolled over to see Steve with his fisted hands curled under his chin with his knees drawn up. Tony's exhale was more of a sigh. Steve's eyes drifted open and there they were. The sparklingly blue eyes were probably the only other thing brighter than his smile. He blinked slowing, still too lazy to even keep them open.

"Morning Tony."

"Morning handsome. How'd you sleep?"

That earned him a small laugh. "Might even say it was the best I've had."

"Would you like the bill mailed to you or would you like to pay up front," Tony joked.

"Mm, do you accept sensual favors?" His voice was still hoarse with sleep. Another kink was add to Tony's list.

"It's sexual favors and yes, yes I do."

"Sensual. Final offer."

"Do your worst," Tony purred.

"On second thought, I think I'll pay later," Steve said sitting upright and grinning.

"Steven, you don't lead me on and leave me wanting like that."

"You'll get yours," he said leaning to his side to plant a kiss on Tony's cheek.

"I'm going to hold you to that." 

"Shall we go see what the others are up to?" 

"Food first."

"I'm up for pancakes." 

***

They found themselves in the kitchen scrounging about for food. They had gone to the store the night before but they were looking for something warm and easy to make but tasteful all the same. 

"What to do, what to do," Clint murmured to himself. The cabinet doors were open showing the array of quick breakfast foods.

"Leftovers," Bruce called behind Clint. "There's a surprising amount left."

"Nah, I'll just get Nat to make us something."

"As much as I'd love to live up to female stereotypes, I think two full grown men are capable of pouring themselves cereal," Natasha said walking in in a wine colored satin top hanging loosely over her shoulders. The matching shorts were cut just above mid thigh.

"But Nat--"

She crossed her arms and stood her ground. Clint took the hint and turned to open the fridge and reach for the milk when Steve and Tony walked in. 

"Morning The Assassins featuring Bruce Banner," Tony addressed the trio in the kitchen. "Would it have killed you guys to get the coffee maker goin'? Jarvis?"

"Right away sir," chimed the voice.

"What are we up to today?"

"Well, we were deciding what to have for breakfast." Bruce glanced at his watch that doubled as a heart monitor. "Lunch," he corrected himself.

"Steve's making pancakes," Tony said proudly. "And we will aid him. Team building and all that good stuff."

"Seems like you two already got a head start last night," Clint said closing the door to the fridge, taking the milk with him to the counter.

"Well..." Tony began.

Steve wasn't going to let Tony go on. There was no shame in all the cuddling that they did but he felt he'd never live it down. "Bruce will you help me with the batter? Tony, you and Natasha are on fruit chopping duty. And Clint, I'm going to have you supervise." 

"Aye, aye Captain!" in truth, Clint was just happy to get something homemade but something made by Steve was like winning the lottery. There was a little rumor that went around the SHIELD helicarrier that to test the merit of modern television, Steve took to tuning in to many of the cooking channels. Apparently, the shwarma had left him curious.

In no time at all the sound of the mixer rang in their ears. The sizzle and smell of bacon and sausage accompanied it. Steve made note to keep careful with Bruce at his side. He had noticed a small chirp at Bruce's hand as the first strip of bacon was laid on the readied pan. Behind him he heard the even cadence of the knife hitting the cutting board, undoubtedly by Natasha's hand. Next to her, he heard Tony struggling and muttering obscenities. He returned to the batter placing the last of it on the pan.

"So you and Steve, huh?"

"I know, I know. Team dynamics, Nat."

"Quick learner." 

"Genius."

"Idiot."

"Brilliant."

"Reckless."

"I gotta tell you, I love being the center of attention."

"And to top it all off, self-obessessed. Just don't break him Stark," she said splitting the last of the strawberries in half with complete precision. Tony hadn't even finished with the banana he was handed. 

"And I'm told _I'm_ the mother." He turned to look at Natasha, the look on her face one of fond amusement. 

A plate stacked high with pancakes interrupted their conversation. "Dig in," Steve said radiantly. Clint had gotten the plates and they all took seats at the counter atop their respective stools. The rich smell intoxicated them and if each ate more than they should have, no one would ever say. The syrup, the diced fruit, the bacon, the sausage were all perfect. Gluttony was a sin Steve knew but he admitted the burst of flavor from the first to the last piece was delicious. Bruce said something about the ridiculousness of the thickness and softness of the pancakes making Steve sheepish. But he swore that was just the bacon talking. He felt even for sheepish when Tony did nothing to quiet his moans. Clearly he had enjoyed his breakfast. Clint had said a thing or two about how "vocal" he was. Euphemisms were nothing new to Steve now that he was more than acquainted with Tony Stark. He ducked his head further. 

By agreement, except Steve of course, the chef of the morning had won himself a "get out of dishwashing duty" card. Steve refused but it took all four of them to force him to sit down on the couch. He told them he needed to start getting lunch together.

"We got this pops."

"You worry too much Steve."

"We'll just trick Clint to doing them all," Natasha winked.

Tony sat down next to Steve and took his hand in his. He laid it out flat and with his other hand traced the space between their fingers, outlining the apparent size difference. Tony turned to look at Steve. "Thanks for the breakfast Stevie," he said with a faint red tint on his cheeks. Steve then laid a kiss on his forehead, ignoring all the catcalls that came from the kitchen. 

"Don't think for a second that you've sneaked your way out of helping us," Natasha said throwing a rag at Tony's head, that promptly draped itself over his face. Steve didn't have to lift it to know that Tony was rolling his eyes but he lifted it just the same to place another kiss on Tony's lips.


	6. Wonderful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets new clothes. The group has a visitor.

"So, about lunch."

"Barton, we just ate."

"What was on the menu?" He leaned over the couch to peer down at Steve, only to bat his eyelashes.

"I was thinking sandwiches," responded Steve looking up.

"Well, I think you've earned a leave of absence." Tony, next to Steve, was examining his hands. The soap or maybe the water alone left them pruny and dry. "I think we should go out for lunch." 

"I'd rather not interact with people who aren't you guys at the moment."

"That time of the month, hm Barton?" 

The look Clint shot back could have killed. 

"Besides, can't you people feed yourselves?"

"Says the man who just had sex with Steve's pancakes. Was all the moaning really necessary?" Natasha spoke from the kitchen, drying the last of the dishes. Bruce was at her side putting them away. 

"We are going out and that's final!"

"Pops, do something about this," Clint said looking back down to Steve.

"Tony, why don't we stay in for lunch and go out for dinner?" Steve asked sweetly. Tony attempted a glare but who could say no to him of all men?

A sigh. "Fine."

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"How's this look?" Steve stepped out of the Target fitting room with a pair of blue jeans and a plain black t-shirt. The jeans were excessive with the fabric and obviously the wrong cut. It was clear his audience of three did not approve. The scarlet chairs creaked as they shared their verdict. "Oh come on. It's not that bad. Bruce?"

"Uh, I think we could do better."

"Right you are B. Nat?" Clint turned to his right to Natasha who still gave a questioning look towards Steve's selection of clothes. 

With her arms and legs crossed and a quirk of her lips, "How do we fix it?"

"We got this!" Clint abruptly jumped to his feet and grabbed Bruce's wrist to only run off into the men's section. Both Natasha and Steve smiled after them.

"I don't know how you were expecting to go out tonight in a pair of khakis," she said turning her smile to him .

"I have clothes," he said closing the door to the fitting room. "I have clothes," he murmured once more. "Why do I need new clothes anyway?"

"Well," she started with her head tilted,"Stark was expectantly appreciative with that sandwich you made him and we're doing him this favor." 

"You guys were just as appreciative. And favor?"

"Yeah, some more than others. So, you and Stark, huh?"

"Me and Tony," he repeated taking off the shirt. She neglected the favor part of his inquiry. Neatly folded, he placed the shirt on the seat wedged into the corner of the room. It also provided a long rectangular mirror where Steve caught sight with his reflection. He did nothing but think for a moment. He and Tony. Steve Rogers and Anthony Stark. Captain America and Iron Man. 

He was ready to wake up at any moment. He feared he had fallen asleep and imagined anything between he and Tony was a dream. He had to think about how mismatched they were. How was he not unlike a relic and how was Tony not unlike his armor? Flashy, sleek, modern. These were things Steve wasn't.

His heart didn't lie though. He didn't think he'd want the futurist as badly as he did. He wanted and wanted to be Tony's everything. To fill every need and void and to actually share a bed to call their own. 

"You still there Cap?"

"Yeah, Nat. Yeah..."

"What I'd like say is that you two are idiots for not sticking each others' tongues down each others' throats sooner."

"You have a way with words Natasha."

"So I'm told. Brace yourself. Clint's 'clothes' happy."

Steve realized he still had the jeans on and wriggled out of them as quick as he could to tend to the the new heap of clothes slapped onto the top of the door.

"Nat, you're on underwear duty. Nothing too scandalous."

Due to the silence, Steve had to assume she gave him a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

"Open up Cap we want to see," Clint said knocking on the door.

"But-"

Steve tried to reason but before he knew it the lock was uniquely picked and Clint and Bruce were filing it. A low whistle he knew to be the marksman's and he turned to properly welcome them. 

"Yeah, yeah. Shows over," Steve said grabbing for the first item atop the pile. He held a faded red button down shirt, pinching it by the shoulders and shielding his face from the other two. It looked more pink than red. "Suppose it's not so bad."

"Really, it's a miracle you aren't wearing briefs Pops." 

Bruce chuckled and Steve lowered the shirt to see him offering a shy smile. Steve couldn't help but smile back. 

Still in his boxer briefs, he unbuttoned the shirt down the center and at the sleeves. He slipped his arms in and shrugged so that the rest of the fabric on his back would fall below the waist. Buttoning it back up, he looked up to the mirror and saw that it looked more cozy than fashionable. It was cut in such a way that it might as well have hugged his obliques but it was comfortable. On closer inspection, if the light caught it right, it looked as though the fabric had been washed one to many times. 

"I think I like it," he finally spoke. 

"How do you think he gets those muscles back there?" Steve saw Bruce give Clint's question a thoughtful look through his reflection as if actually pondering it.

"Guys I-"

"Jeans next, Cap!"

Clint reached for the pair he chose and threw them at Steve. He put them on forgetting any arguments. 

They were a great deal tighter than the ones he chose himself. They weren't unbearable. "Slim fit," he heard him say. Steve had to hand it to Clint. The man knew how to dress. 

Steve turned to only glance back at his reflected backside because the jeans, oddly, were more snug in certain places than others. 

"Are we sure these don't come-"

There was a knock at the door.

"Open up. I got a few things I know Stark will like."

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

He had bought the place for the night. A classy Italian restaurant, the place was spacious and empty save for the few waiters still adjusting the red and white checkered table cloth. Set atop a skyscraper, it may have very well been one of New York's best kept secrets. He heard and saw glossy black high heels hit the hardwood dance floor. So few places were left like this one. Obscure lighting and pristine dress shirts tucked under jet black pencil skirts were things he knew the team would appreciate. Parts of it anyway.

He sat counting the seconds go by as he debated another piece of garlic bread. He was full already and the others hadn't arrived. It wasn't like Steve to be late. But then again, he had to think of who he was with. Hopefully Bruce would have been cast as the voice of reason. 

Another few seconds and he was meticulously inspecting the table. The plates were set around with cloth napkins at the side. Silverware on its opposite. 

Yet another few seconds and he was rapping his index finger against the table. The fabric did nothing to drown the sound.

_Dammit_ , he though while stuffing the last slice of bread into his mouth. With a swift motion, a new bread basket appeared before him replacing the empty one. He looked up to glare at his server with stuffed cheeks but it may have come across as a thank you as she simply smiled and refilled his empty glass of water. 

_Probably looking for a good tip._

He was alone save for the soft jazz and working waiters. _The bartender looks like he could use some small talk. What's a bouncer without a little small talk?_ As he was about to leave his seat for a drink or three, the elevator doors dinged open. 

In filed the people he accepted to be his family. The mark of a genuine smile would be one from ear to ear and he felt his cheeks sore already. 

Of course Natasha opted for the little black dress. Of course Clint went with a purple dress shirt and jeans. And of course Bruce came in in slacks and a murky green Oxford. What threw Tony were the slim jeans and the white v-neck shirt under a fit navy blazer on Steve. 

He openly stared at Steve who seemed to be setting a date for something with Bruce and Clint. Tony didn't care what for because it was only Steve and himself in the room at the moment. The voices sounded muffled as they drew closer, his eyes never leaving Steve's prominent form.

He truly was the pinnacle of human perfection. The fine line dividing his pectorals peeked just above the shirt. Enough to be arousing. Any lower and Tony wouldn't have been able to take him seriously. The blazer seemed to have been tailored to match its wearer's perfection. Tony stopped his observations to the realization that there people other than Steve in the room.

_Palms are sweaty. That's not good. Throat dry. Check. Racing heart. Yup. Ladies and gentlemen, I have got it bad._

"Tony!"

"What?" He finally blinked. Bruce was at his side clearly worried. "Bruce, what does fainting feel like?"

"Uh-" 

"Don't answer that."

Before he knew it, Steve's eyes met his own and he felt that painful smile on his face again. Steve couldn't help but find his boots interesting as Tony continued to openly ogle him. 

"Let's eat!" Clint announced unceremoniously. 

They all took seats around Tony. Taking his seat next to him, Steve leaned down to give him a small kiss on his cheek. Giggles around the table suggested it was quite the sight. Tony may or may not have blushed. 

"You're welcome," he heard Natasha whisper from his other side. 

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Come on you were doing great. We can do a little less with out the stepping on toes but great."

"I'm just not up to speed."

"I'll get you there. From the top. 'One, two, three, four, five six. One, two...'"

"Whose got the camera?" Clint was watching Tony teach Steve to dance from his seat at the table.

"Not with all that sauce on your lip," Natasha said reaching for said lip and wiping it with her napkin.

"They make quite the pair don't they." Bruce looked on as well. 

"Didn't you gave a girl Bruce?"

"Had one. Had to let her go."

"Why's that?"

Bruce did nothing but tap the heart monitor on his wrist. As he finished doing so, he looked up to Clint with an outstretched hand.

"Come on, let's go."

Utterly perplexed he turned to Natasha whose face read don't look at me. He turned back to the hand in front of him and looked back up to Clint.

"We dancin' er what?"

Looking back down to the palm and calloused pads of his fingers, Bruce really should not have been surprised by Clint's spontaneity. 

"Ah, I'm really just a loo-"

He was hoisted on his feet and dragged to the floor by his wrist. 

"Now what you do first is..." 

"Steve. Steve, I think you got it. Ha-ha! You got!" 

Tony was partly focusing on maintaining higher brain function and not getting stepped on by generous feet. He knew what they said about men with big feet. His focus was also divided by the grasp of Steve's hands at his waist. Paws. There was no better way describe them. It was also so easy to lose that focus when he occasionally glanced up to Steve's cerulean eyes and see them shift to several shades of blue as light caught them whirling about. It was a waltz they fell in cadence to. Tony felt the softness of the back of his neck where hair met skin. The only thing keeping them apart was Steve's everlasting chivalry. His cheeks had gone numb a while ago but he was sure Steve was smiling back. He had forgotten what genuine pleasure felt like. These strangers simply happened about his life and took up residence at the Tower. There wasn't a thought more comforting at the moment. 

To his side he saw Bruce fumble and Clint chuckle and encourage him to keep trying. Behind them Natasha looked on as her men danced and smiled along. 

Tony leaned forward to speak in Steve's ear. "I think you should show miss Romanoff your new moves. Hm?"

"I think you're right," Steve said leaning down to give him a peck on his forehead.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Steve and Tony took to the terrace as Clint invited Natasha to yet another dance. The terrace offered a variety of large and small plants along the perimeter and a white bench in the very center.

The sky was cloudless and if there were stars, they weren't visible. It seemed as though every light was on in New York. 

They sat on the bench and did nothing but listen to the soundtrack the streets below provided as they sky gazed. 

"Steve?"

"Hm."

"You know I love you... right?"

"And I you." 

A moment passed and a car horn replaced Tony's voice as he sought the words. 

"And you know I wouldn't force you to do something you don't want?"

"I do now," he said meeting Tony's eyes.

"Steve."

"Yes Tony, I know. What's this about?" Concern rose in his voice.

"Well..." he began as he clutched the small box in his suit pocket. 

He broke eye contact and suddenly felt the need to calculate the amount of light pollution in the sky. First an equation and than an estimation of lights on and the amount exuded by the lights themselves... 

"Tony?"

Tony would've told him to forget about it and that he ate too much but Steve knew better. 

"Tony, are you ok-"

"Is that an umbrella?" He tilted his head for a better look.

"Don't change the conversation Tone." 

"No, no. Look. In the sky."

Steve did so and his furrowed brows were enough to confirm that Tony was not losing his grip on reality. 

"Is that a child?"

"Umbrella Steve. Um-bre-lla."

Annoyed, Steve gestured back at the sky.

Tony looked back. "Sonuvabitch." 

The umbrella-child landed safely a good distance away from them with the smallest tap against the cement terrace. It was a boy.


	7. Press Pause

"Tell me I'm drunk off my ass and that we did not just witness a kid fall from the sky with an umbrella in hand." 

"Well," Steve turned his gaze away from the child and towards Tony," it wouldn't be the strangest thing we've seen. Considering."

"Make it go away," he responded, banging his forehead on Steve's shoulder.

It was a boy Steve could see. All his enhanced vision couldn't help his sight with the poor lighting the moon provided. 

With a few faint taps, the boy drew closer. The restaurant light revealed that he was no older than five and dressed in a familiar plaid shirt tucked under finely tailored khakis. The boots might as well have been a miniaturized version of Steve's own. He would have tensed otherwise but his heart told him that the little one offered no threat. He smiled instead.

"Something tells me we shouldn't worry," Steve whispered into Tony's hair.

"Are you Anthony Stark and Steven Rogers?" The boy pulled the umbrella away revealing the rest of himself. He observed the pair carefully with jet black hair, blue eyes, and thick lashes. 

Tony cracked an eye. "Who wants to know?"

The boy reached into his pocket and extracted a neatly folded piece of paper. He extended his arm and offered it to either of the two that would except it. Tony most graciously took it, pinching the corner closest to him with his index and thumb for extra measure. 

Tony turned his head, never lifting it from Steve's shoulder, and held up the now unfolded paper so the light could catch it. He cleared his throat and read aloud: 

"To Anthony Stark and Steven Rogers:  
Hey, younger not sexier me. (Like fine whine, remember that.) So I'm only assuming you were the one to take the paper from the kid. (I know this for a fact actually.) Who you have in front of you, wait for it, let out that breath you're holding, is your son. Let it sink in before you continue reading. I can't tell you much. Space time continuum and all that good stuff. (I've also got Rogers hovering over me making sure I don't tell you too much. Hi past Steve!) We're sending him to your time to learn a thing or two about heroism. (There was an argument about who of the heroes in our time would be the one(s) to mentor him. We fought valiantly but as you already know, whatever Steve says, goes.) So, under Steve's jurisdiction, we are sending Abraham Anthony Rogers-Stark to you. He chose the life of the hero early, perhaps too early, and conversely, we chose to accept it. He's five for God's sake! Kind of inevitable if you ask me though. But, in all seriousness, don't break him. future Steve sends his regards. 

\- future Tony Stark"

Tony looked the letter over once more and kept the next bit scribbled in the righthand corner to himself.

"P.S. 

The sex is great. ;)"

Tony immediately looked up, eyes bulging. "Did you read this?"

Abraham's jutting bottom lip spoke volumes. "No."

Tony sighed out of the biggest relief. He had a kid deemed his and a sex talk with a five-year-old would have been the icing on the cake. 

He finally lifted his head and turned to Steve. "My God. I drank myself to death. This is my own personal hell isn't it?"

Steve pinched Tony's side exuding a yelp from the man's lips. Steve only smiled and stroked the area lovingly. "Let's not say things like that in front of our supposed son. Deal?"

"Nope. Many people before you have tried censoring me and, of course, to no avail. Death before censorship."

"I'll smother you in your sleep," Steve lowered to meet Tony's ear.

"Ooh, with what. Tell me more, tell me more." 

"Yuck."

"Abie, shut it or you're   
grounded."

"Hmp."

One last slap and another yelp and Clint was at the doorway leading to the terrace.

"Guys, the servers and owners want out. They said there's no amount you can give 'em to stay open till daylight. They'll give you your money back."

"Uncle Clint, Uncle Clint!"

At the blink of an eye Abraham found himself jumping up and down in front of Clint, the umbrella tossed aside in the excitement.

With a horrified expression, "Aw f-"

•••

"So."

"So," Abraham mocked.

"You're from the future."

"Aunt Natasha-"

"How about you tell me where you're really from."

Very little occupied the interrogation rooms aboard the S.H.I.E.L.D. hellicarrier. The gleaming silver of the metallic table shone bright under the low hung lamp light. The shadows hiding the majority of her body, Natasha leaned on the edge of the table with her forearms. Her head tilted, the shadows stained her face provoking intimidation. 

Abraham reached into his pocket and extracted another folded paper like he had done before. Sliding it as far as his arm could reach, he waited to see what the response would be. 

"What's this?" She asked examining it closely. 

"Read it please."

As Natasha did so, her brows couldn't help but furrow. 

"So."

"So," Abraham sighed.

"Budapest."

"Budapest."

"You know."

"Mhm."

"How?"

"Uncle Clint."

With that, she couldn't help  
rub her hand against her temple. 

"Stay put-"

"Abraham."

"Abraham," she repeated with a feigned smile. 

•••

"You named our kid after the president, didn't you?" Tony was clearly unamused by the idea. The soft click of the door told the rest of the team that they were joined by Natasha fresh from her chat with Abraham on the other side of the glass panel.

"He can't see us correct?"

"Steve, don't change the subject. I must've been three different kinds of drunk to have let this happen."

"Well, I can confirm he's well informed. No one besides myself and Clint know what went down at Budapest. Bruce?"

"Tests show that he is indeed their son."

"How exactly so?" Tony asked incredulously.

"Well, when two people love each other very much-"

Clint couldn't help but laugh at the situation. The punch to his bicep from   
Natasha quickly silenced him. Despite so, he smirked back.

"So one of us gave birth to him?" Tony was quite noticeably horrified.

"Not quite sure yet but, as far as I can tell, he has half of your genes and half of Steve's."

"So he's metahuman."

"Assuming we know enough about how genetics work. Yes. Preliminary tests show no abnormalities in comparison to boys his age. It's safe to assume he inherited a few of Steve's abilities and perhaps a few of your own. I'll have to run a few more tests to be com-"

"That's alright Bruce. We'll find out as we go along."

"As we go along? How can you trust someone you've known for less than twelve hours?"

"Is that a rhetorical question? He's five, how much trouble can he be?"

"I think you have your answer," Clint gestured with his head. Everyone looked to the glass panel to see Abraham trying to placate a small fire with the cup of water he was given. 

"Half of Tony's genes, huh?" Steve couldn't help but sound amused.


End file.
